Red Dust
by CygnetBritt
Summary: A one shot set during The Spanish Teacher. Brittany has a peculiar way of describing the world around her and knows that Santana is the only one who can truly understand her.


**Hi. I'm new here. I hope you enjoy the first instalment of this story, and please do not hesitate to leave a review and make positive but constructive criticism. I've been reading Brittana/HeYa fiction for a while now so I know what to expect from you guys and I certainly hope I do not disappoint. **

**This fiction is from Brittany's point of view. It can be a diary, a thought process or even one of her many ramblings to Lord Tubbington. It is entirely up to you.**

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><p>Today was insanely fun. I love pretending to be an animal. It totally reminds me of the time my Dad made us follow him round the superstore like little ducklings, so that he didn't misplace us. It was the first day my Dad had to look after me, my sisters, and San. He kind of rocked that day because he bought us anything we wanted. Anyway, Kaitlin was mean and told me I was the ugly duckling and kept teasing me. She only stopped when Santana pointed out that the ugly duckling was the only one to transform into a beautiful swan at the end of the story.<p>

I've never quite understood that though. Surely a duckling grows up to be a duck and not a swan? San told me it made sense because the ugly duckling was never really a duckling in the first place. She said he was a cygnet, spelt C Y G N E T. Don't ask. Anyway, she said that his egg accidentally rolled into a ducks nest when his mom wasn't watching. She said that his brothers and sisters weren't his real brothers and sisters and that he was lost. But it was ok because he became a beautiful swan and found himself in the end. I don't know, I think that just confused me more; did she mean that my sisters weren't actually my sisters? And as far as I'm aware I don't have any brothers, unless my mum sent them off to work on a farm and didn't tell us? I think Santana probably made the whole thing up to make me feel better, and it worked.

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><p>Anyway, like I was saying. That performance was a whole lot of fun. Everyone in Glee club was cheering and clapping at the end, everyone except Santana that is. I didn't understand. Normally when I danced in front of her she'll get all sentimental and adorable, her eyes glaze over and I think she forgets to breathe because her face goes red and her breath snags slightly. Normally she's the first to jump up and clap. I mean; she's the first thing I look at so I don't know if she's actually first person to cheer. But she wasn't cheering this time, she wasn't even smiling. She looked horrified and confused, and then she was scowling. I felt a weird sensation burn in the pit of my stomach. Not the good kind of burn like when Santana whispers something into my ear and her hot breath hits my neck. This was a sickening burn and even when I could hear her and Mr Schue talking, none of their words were registering in my head. Did I do something wrong?<p>

The next thing I knew everyone was making their way out of the Auditorium and the stage was empty. I told San that I think the musicians apparate back to Hogwarts or something because I never see them set up or pack away, they just appear and then vanish. Plus the Ginger one always wears a really zany sweater, like the one Mrs. Weasley makes for Ron and Harry at Christmas. I asked her if she thought it would be alright to ask him, but she just laughed and kissed me. I think she knows that they'll probably deny it. Muggles like me aren't meant to know about magic are they? Besides, I really don't want them to erase my memory like they do to Harry's Aunt, so I've asked Santana to keep it a secret that I know.

Santana was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, leaning back against the banister with one leg hoisted on the wall and her arms were folded. She was checking her cell phone, the light bouncing off her face slightly. It's always so dark in the auditorium. I mean it used to be great when Santana and I were a secret. I could hold her hand and no-one would know. Despite the dim light, and if I squinted just about enough I could see that she looked beautiful today. Then again, she looks beautiful every day. A truly beautiful swan.

Sometimes I think she's the one who got lost, and not me.

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><p>I took two steps at a time on my way up to her. She didn't even acknowledge me until I was stood barely a foot away; I had to dip slightly to meet her eyes. Her cheeks were still flushed with red and her eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. Her lips were moist with lip gloss, and I had to fight the urge to kiss her.<p>

"Hey." She whispered quietly, her eyelids fluttered a little as she smiled at me.

"You were great San, like really great." It took me a while to respond. She let out a half laugh. You know when people breathe and laugh at the same time. It was short and sweet. Her eyes dropped down to the space between us and she gently tapped the side of my leg where my hand rested. I think this is Santana's new way of asking permission to hold my hand, not that I would ever refuse. Apart from when I've eaten something sticky and I haven't been able to find a basin.

"Come on, let's get out of here." She whispered again as our fingers connected. Her small hand was always icy cold against the heat of my own.

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><p>They drive home was quiet. Santana looked straight ahead at the road, glancing every now and then in the rear view. With my head resting on the back of the chair, I watched her silently. She was still wearing her outfit from her performance, and I could tell she was cold because her thighs were covered in tiny little goosebumps that rippled across her smooth, tanned skin. They crept up her arms too, and across the curve of her neck. She swallowed hard as we stopped at some lights, and her face turned to meet me. She gave me a small weak smile, the kind she gives me when I know she's trying to pretend she's O.K. Why was she not O.K.?<p>

"You want to run through the geometry homework when we get back?" She asked quietly.

"Sure." I said in an almost-whisper. It's not what I wanted though. I wanted to hear her laugh, and I wanted to see her smile, like properly smile, with a wide toothy grin that makes her look totally adorable. But there was something heavy in the air around us, something sitting upon my chest that stopped me from feeling happy. As we pulled away from the lights I felt her hand place down lightly on my thigh. I covered it with my own hand and felt a warm glow surge the entire length of my body. I felt sad and happy, confused and comforted, alone and supported, all at once. My head span.

I hardly noticed as we pulled up to her house. I think I may have fallen asleep momentarily, but I couldn't remember closing my eyes, and Santana normally has to shake me gently, or kiss me to wake me up. But her hand was gone and my thigh felt the cold instantly. She was already out of the car and grabbing our bags from the trunk.

"I don't think my parents are in…" She mentioned across the roof of the car. "…again." She muttered as an undertone.

When we were teenagers, Santana used to host all the parties, apart from the really wild ones. She let Puck's house get trashed for those. She said she did it to make us popular, but I think sometimes it was because she hated being in the house alone. If there wasn't a party she'd either be at mine or Pucks. I saw the look she used to have when she came round for dinner at mine. She longed to be a part a big family, and the absence of which was sketched deeply in her dark eyes. My sisters would joke that she may as well have been adopted by my parents. But that would have made us sisters, and I didn't want Santana to be my sister. Sisters fought.

Now that we're older, and now that we're together, it's nice to have our own space. At first it was a novelty that wouldn't wear off. Within seconds of entering her bedroom our clothes would be shed and we'd be fighting for dominance in our kisses. These days we're calmer, words and feelings became stronger, and time together felt more valued. We entered her bedroom and she began to pick loose items off the floor and shoving them in the laundry basket. She scooped up my unicorn, laying at the foot of the bed and chucked it onto the pillows. I liked to call her room the dungeon. Santana doesn't like the name, but I think it fits. It's dark and moody, and Santana transforms upon entering it. It's like it's the only place she feels safe.

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><p>"Anyone would think you've moved in." She giggled; handing me a pile of clean washing her mom had left on her bed. Our clothes were no longer separated. After I stowed our clothes away, I joined her sat cross legged on the bed as she opened our books to the correct pages.<p>

"Britt." I looked up at Santana sat opposite to me. She took a deep breath and continued "You've hardly said a word since we left school."

"I know." I admitted. "I'm just tired." I didn't know what to say.

"You're chewing your bottom lip to shreds; it's all puffy and swollen. If you carry on like that; Trouty Mouth will have a rival." She giggled, reaching forwards to touch my lip between her thumb and index finger. "You're not tired, you're nervous."

I remained silent, responding to her touch with a small pout.

"Is this about graduating again? Because I told you that it's…" She started.

"No, Santana it's not that." I interrupted her. She was beginning to worry. I didn't want her to worry.

"Then what is it?" She closed her textbook and shoved it towards the foot of the bed.

"Dime Britt, por favor dime." I smiled; I don't think she realised she had just spoken to me in Spanish.

"It's about that performance I did. With Mr. Schue and Mike." My heart thumping heavily in my chest.

"Okay…"

"Like, I really enjoyed it. I mean I enjoyed the dancing. I always enjoy dancing."

"I know babe, and you always look super hot when you're up on stage." She flirted and stopped when she realised I hadn't finished. "Sorry, carry on. You enjoyed the dance today…"

"Yeh I did, that's my point. Mike and I practised all weekend because Mr. Schue said it was important. And because of that we tried really hard and I think we did a good job."

"You did." She said firmly. Now I was confused.

"Then why didn't you cheer?"

"Wha… what?" She leant back slightly, her face puzzled again.

"You didn't cheer at the end."

"I just…"

"Every time I dance, you cheer." I interrupted her. "Apart from that one time when I was dancing with Blaine and you got super cute and jealous and dragged me away. But I know now that you probably didn't realise that he was a Unicorn like you, me and Kurt. Anyway..."

"Britt, I knew he was gay." She rolled her eyes.

"Then why did you…?"

"Another time, that's not important right now. I didn't cheer." She reminded me of what we were talking about.

"No you didn't." I said bluntly.

"And you think that's because I didn't like your dance?" She understood now.

"Well yeah, I mean you didn't hiss or boo or throw stuff at us, but you were scowling San. The kind of the scowl you give to Rachel if she talks too much about Finn in celibacy club. Or the type of scowl you give to Lord Tubbington if he jumps up on the bed when we're making out. Oh and by the way, I've spoken to him about that. He's agreed to stop but only if you sign your name against a list of conditions that he's given me. They're in my bag…"

She laughed and put her hand to her forehead as I continued.

"Anyway, it was the type of scowl you give to that spotty waiter when he gets my order wrong at Breadstix. And very similar to the scowl you give to the pavement when you trip up. I think I just said scowl too often because now it sounds weird, you know, like it's not a real word. Scowl. Scowl. Scowl. It is a real word right? I didn't make it up did I?"

"It's a real word Britt." She confirmed. "And I wasn't scowling at you…"

"Sounds so much better when you say it. And you weren't?" I felt relieved. "Who were you scowling at then?"

"Mr. Schue. Did you not hear what I said to him at the end?"

"No, not really. I kinda zoned out."

"Because you were scared I didn't like the performance?"

"Yeh." I felt the heaviness lift slightly again. Talking with Santana hasn't always been easy. But she listens now. Or maybe she always did, but I never seemed to say things she wanted to hear.

"I loved your performance today. I love all of your performances. I could never get tired of seeing you dance, even when you're just prancing round the kitchen in the morning. Please don't ever doubt that, okay?" She waited for me.

"Okay."

"Today was different though. Today Glee club touched upon something that has been inside of me for so long, but I've never been able to express it. I'm fed up of them stereotyping people like me Britt. Do you understand what I mean by that?"

"Sort of…" She let me think about it for a second. "I don't know. My Mom told me that when you stereotype someone, you make assumptions about them that aren't true. Is that right? Because it sounds to me like a weird science-fiction word. A word that means stereos can type, like if they came to life or something, but I don't what they'd have to write about…"

"Your mom is right." She stopped me.

"Oh. Well what assumptions do they make about you? I mean yeh they call you a bitch, and even though I don't agree with that, you seem to?"

"Not just assumptions about me. About my culture, about the Latino community. They think it's all about fluid hips, salsa, sombreros, arriba arriba, and Speedy Gonzales the goddamn cartoon mouse. And the Mariachi performance Mr. Schue did today? Yeh that was pretty much the icing on the proverbial cake."

"I'm sorry Santana." I could see hurt in her eyes. I didn't know what to say to remove it. I had danced with Mr. Schue today and I took part in his silly little routine, and I didn't realise it would hurt her.

"It's not your fault." She whispered softly as she piled her books into a neat pile and took my hands into her own.

"Come here." She coaxed me, pulling my arms delicately.

"I can't."

"Why not?" She looked mildly affronted.

"Because if I do, I'll never get this homework done. And as much as I love your sweet lady kisses, I can't afford to get another fail." I kissed the back of one of her hands and turned my attention back to my books.

"Okay, okay, fine." She sighed. "Being box blocked by geometry totally sucks." She huffed again, grabbing her discarded books. I watched her as she turned the pages in mild frustration and let out a small giggle.


End file.
